Fall Of The King
by knightlock
Summary: A story of love, loss and war, as Jareth fights to save his crown and Kingdom and win the heart of his beloved Sarah.
1. Chapter 1

Jareth waited alone and early in the bleakly decorated hall of his castle. Reaching into the pocket of his riding coat, he bought out a watch. Giving a smirk, he tapped it. _A whole fifteen minutes late_ he thought, as he returned the watch to it's place. Jareth never before had been awake at this time, as his usual schedule insisted on plenty of rest and to be assisted through his every need. However, times had changed and at this moment in time he could not even tolerate sleep. He lifted his head to see a rather apprehensive young man running in his direction. When he had reached Jareth he bent down, holding his knees and taking breaths so deep his lungs would surely deflate.  
>"I am sincerely sorry, your highness. I insist, I was caught short and I lost track of time. Please, do forgive me.." The boy spoke before being abruptly interrupted.<br>"Percival, perhaps a watch might be in order. Or do I have to transform you indefinitely?" Percy fumbled at his sleeves, his cheeks the most effulgent shade of red there was to be seen. Jareth took a sudden stride towards the doors of the hall leaving Percy to inadvertently skip along behind him.

It took time before even a mere word was spoken between them; there was such tension surrounding that Percy knew that the first would not at all be light hearted.

"The Church has turned against us," Jareth sighed, holding his head as if trying to help himself cope with the words he had just spoken, "Or rather, me. The Elves of further West have determined my methods of ruling as unlawful in the eyes of Corellon Larethian and they have demanded that I am to be stripped of my title and crown." Percy gaped at him in a sense of bemusement. He had never heard of "Corellon Larethian"; he simply scratched at his short blonde waves and blinked furiously.

"What have you done that is so unlawful in their eyes, Sire?" he muttered. Jareth did not answer, instead he quickened his pace. Percy gathered that this was not a subject Jareth wanted to elaborate.  
>"Corellon Larethian is the highest of the Elven Gods. I have never taken much interest into religion, but the Elves are the ruling beings of the Underground. If something doesn't sit well with them, they are capable of doing something about it."<p>

"I didn't realise that the Underground stretched further than the Goblin City.." Percy said, fixing his beady eyes onto Jareth, "Are there many other beings?"  
>"Yes Percival, but I suggest you enlighten yourself on that matter during your own time."<br>"Why is there a church?"  
>"Percy." Jareth glared at him before resuming his vacant worried stare.<br>"We are at war."


	2. Chapter 2

Percy was the Goblin Kings assistant, and never before had he been so wary of serving under him. Jareth had found him as a baby in a telephone box in South Wales with the intention of raising him as his heir, though decided his will was too weak. He was mortal, but possessed some forms of minor magic having been raised by Fae and Goblins. In human years, he was about fourteen, though looked much older. He was as tall as Jareth, and very skinny indeed.  
>He was knelt on the library floor, his knees gathering dust from the dirty, unused concrete. No one used the library, they were too busy attending to Jareths needs. Percy had taken the opportunity to do some research on the conversation he had had with Jareth that morning. He could not comprehend why he had never known about what else thrives in the Underground. He had been raised there, but yet was under the impression that the Goblin City was the extent of it. He stroked across the tattered books lined along the bottom shelf, until he came across the book he would need. "A History Of The Underground" it was called, and judging by the thick layer of dust on the cover, it had not been touched for years.<p>

"In the beginning, God created the Universe," he read aloud, rolling his eyes at the belief of the mortals. Having been raised by Jareth, he had inherited his disregard of religion. He could not understand why the book, clearly about the Underground, was informing on the mortals God. "He created the sun, the moon, the stars and Earth. He was pleased with his efforts, for now he could live." _Live?_ Percy thought, completely baffled by what he was reading. He read on, only becoming more startled as he did.  
>"God is a greater being, like no other, who had been banished from his home, many galaxy's away. When he came across the blank space in time that is now our Universe, he had just enough strength in him to create it. When he had finished, he sealed himself inside our planet. Life grew from him, and as it did, he grew stronger. The process would take billions of years.<br>"The first beings to walk to planet, were Elves. They were strong and possessed a great amount of power, as it was easier to drain the life from God as he was so weak. The Elf race was extremely fast growing, soon they had built a beautiful city for them to live in. But God knew that their strength would become destructive, so he set some rules and told them to the first Elf, Corellon Larethian. If these rules were broken, the consequences would be great. "Corellon had two daughters, Angharad and Celeste. They were extremely beautiful, kind and pure. Corellon knew that he had to protect them, for they were his pride and joy. His nephew, Cyrus, would often visit them, bringing wonderful gifts and paying many compliments. However, Angharad and Celeste did not pay interest in him, and soon he became spiteful. One night, he crept into Celeste's room where she peacefully slept. He took her virtue, and violently he raped her until her blood curdling screams could no longer be voiced. Upon hearing her sisters screams, Angharad had ran to her sisters side, where Cyrus had left her for dead. He had left unnoticed, but would later return for Angharad. Corellon mourned the loss of his beautiful Celeste and realised that Angharad was not safe. They fled the city, and took refuge in a forest. They hadn't gone far, but believed they had gone far enough. But alas, Cyrus had followed them, and after Corellon had gone to sleep, he went to Angharad, knife in hand, ready to steal her virginity like he did her sisters. But as he knelt down beside her, she awoke. She took his hand which held the knife and plunged it into her heart. She lay dying, as he screamed with remorse at what he had done. Before Angharad passed, she spat at him, and told him that he would burn in hell. Corellon awoke to find Cyrus knelt beside his still daughter. He murdered him for what he had done, and upon that, God banished all of Elf kind to the Underground. His planet was delicate, and the Elves were too powerful for their own good. They needed to be retained in a place that God could keep close watch on them. Corellon became Gods first Saint, and he would be looked upon as the Elven God. Anybody who lived Underground would worship him, as he was closest to God.  
>"Over time, the Underground became populated, not just by Elves, but by many different magical creatures. The Elven City lies West of the mainland, Goblins lie south and Fairies North. Giants are situated East, way out of reach of any of the other Cities. God regretted the creation of Giants; they were cumbersome and dangerous and they had a nasty habit of destroying anything they came across. South of the mainland is Narnia, a country in it's own rights." "Anyone who lives Underground, will grow powers according to their strength, as being so closed to where God dwells, more of his power is drained." <em>Well that explains almost everything, <em>Percy thought.

Struggling to keep himself awake, Percy tidied the book away and stumbled off to his room, where he would try his very best to come to terms with what he had discovered.

* * *

><p>Bishop Dorian paced the narrow halls of the Elven Cathedral, his footsteps echoing through the miraculously high ceilings. An Elven Cathedral was usually twice the size of one Aboveground, with much more impressive décor. It could be looked upon as cheating however, because of the amount of magic used to create it, but they were building them in Gods intent, meaning it was satisfactory to use the powers he had given them. The Bishop had a look of discontent; his no longer glowing skin was now grey and dull, his eyes were pale and he had the look of someone whom had the life sucked from them. His greasy, grey hair hung either side of his boney face, like a neglected pair of curtains. He was old and, surely, nearing his end.<p>

A cloaked man edge through the door way of the Chapter House, bowing his head when he saw Bishop Dorian.

"The King will see you now" he murmured in a voice so low it was a wonder how it was heard. The Bishop nodded and entered the Chapter House, halting upon the sight of the King, who was sipping wine on a thrown at the end of the room.

"King Thaddeus, your highness," he said proudly, bowing as he did so.

"Ah, Bishop Dorian. I trust you bring news on the Goblin King." Thaddeus replied, placing the goblet of wine beside him and beckoning for the Bishop to come forward.

"Yes, Sire." he said, unrolling a piece of parchment from his pocket. The King instructed him to proceed. Dorian strode closer, handing him the parchment.

"Jareth, King of Goblin City has refused to give up his crown. He has disrespected the Church, and therefore disobeyed Corellon Larethian in doing so. We have no choice but to take him by force, your Majesty." His body language was ever so proud, standing with his arms held behind his back, his chin as high as it could be. He raised an eyebrow, awaiting the Kings reply.

"But has he done so much as to do so, Bishop? Surely the rules of the Church are old, and times have changed. Maybe a more, lenient approach could be made for the matter?"

"Are you forgetting that _I _am the Church, Sire?"

"Of course Bishop."

"And are you also forgetting that in _being _the Church, I am closest to Corellon, therefore I know his will. Surely, in making a leniency towards the Goblin King, you are going against Corellons will. We have no choice, your Highness, but to rage war upon the Goblin City." He tilted his head to one sight, giving a look so smug that a blind man could see it from a mile away. But not the King, for Thaddeus was stupid, and only King because of royal blood.

"Very well," he sighed, scribbling a signature upon the parchment and handing it back to Dorian, "See to it that the army is prepared by dawn."

"Of course, your Majesty." Bishop Dorian bowed, before turning on his heel and striding out of the Chapter House. With a smirk, he left the Cathedral, and began to prepare for the war that would begin at dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

The grand hall of the Castle was decorated stupendously; it was a sight to behold, one would wonder what the occasion was. The room glittered and beamed with gold, candles were lit and floated around the room. There were many gold statues of beautiful naked women stood around, holding candelabras and there were many circular tables towards the far end of the room. The whole room seemed to sparkle, it was beautiful. Upon a circular staircase sat Jareths thrown, which he was perched upon in a deep sleep. There was to be a ball, and the host of the joyous but somewhat sad event was the Goblin King. This was to be the night he would announce the terrible news to his Kingdom. He did not know when the Elves were going to attack, he did not even know if they were going to at all, but he needed to prepare his people for the worst. He ruled the towns outside of the Goblin City as well, where Fae folk dwelled. They were like Jareth; appeared human but magical and all beautiful. He dreamt of the day that the Elven King, Thaddeus had visited him with the Bishop Dorian. They strode into the thrown room, so proud and intimidating and stood before him, glaring so intently that heat seemed to radiate from their deep, powerful eyes. Jareth appeared not to notice them, and upon Dorian clearing his throat, hazily switched his gaze from the crystal in his fingertips to the two Elves in front of him. Their was an uneasy atmosphere between all three men; Jareth begun fidgeting under their stare.

"Well!" He finally snapped, throwing his arms in the air and jumping to his feet.

"You know very well why we're here, Jareth." Thaddeus said; his voice was smooth and deep, he sounded calm at all times. Jareth sat back down, nervously coming his blond strands with gloved hands. It was not often he was frightened, but he hated to admit to himself that he was. Visits from Elves were a nuisance enough, let alone from Elves with power. The tension between them was unbearable; they were all silent, the two Elves remained their icy glare.

"Whatever you have to accuse me for, I deny." Jareth did not believe that he had done anything wrong, he ruled fairly. King Thaddeus and Bishop Dorian thought otherwise however.

"Oh, but you cannot deny anything, Jareth." Thaddeus snarled with a smirk. "You know very well that Gods humans are delicate, you mustn't go about with thoughts of corrupting them." Jareth began fidgeting again, he hated the thought of anyone intruding on his thoughts, and he knew that the Elves had been doing so.

"And what do you expect me to do about it? I have already thought those thoughts, I cannot erase them from my mind, can I? What's _said_ is _said_, and what's _done_ is _done_."

"You have fallen in love with a human. You cannot deny this, we have seen your thoughts, and we know what you have been planning."

"Yes. But what have you come to say about it? Did you come to give me some hints?" He smirked, and upon his words looked Dorian up and down before continuing, "perhaps not then." Dorian cleared his throat for permission from the King to speak. Thaddeus waved his hand for him to proceed.

"The laws of the church clearly state that a Fae who holds such feelings for a human being, must be imprisoned. This is Corellons word, Jareth, do you dare to go against it?" he spoke proudly. Jareth scratched his chin.

"I never understood religion." He said, sticking his nose in the air with a manner of uncaring.

"Hence why you are so unlawful then. Corellon is ruler of the underground, therefore we must obey him."

"Regardless, Jareth, resign your crown to us or we will take it by force. Your people will die." Thaddeus interrupted. This made Jareth begin to sweat, he did not want to give them the impression that he was terrified; he held his head high and shrugged.

"Then they will die." he sighed, and Thaddeus and Dorian grinned, before leaving the room for Jareth to scream.

"Sire!"  
>Jareth awoke with a start to see Percy stood before him, dressed in his finest red coat and his best toothy grin.<p>

"The guests are arriving!" He exclaimed, trying his best to contain his excitement however, failing miserably. Jareth rolled his eyes, and stared at Percy. He always had thought of him as a son; he was disappointed when he made the decision that he would not rule, but loved him nevertheless. Percy did not know this, he was always treated a little unfairly by him, but remained as loyal and loving as any breed of dog would. Jareth staggered to his feet, holding his head and trying to fight of the memories of his dream.

"Fetch me a drink, boy." He instructed, sitting heftily back on his thrown.

"Port?"

"Port." Percy scurried off and re-appeared a few seconds later, drink in hand for his master, who drunk it in one gulp. He then waved for him to bring in the guests, and again he skipped as quickly as his toes would carry him to follow Jareths order. He couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, his tight blonde curls bounced as he ran across the room. The doors opened, and a flurry of well dressed guests entered, all beautiful. He remained in his seat, and Percy ran back to stand by his side. It was obvious to see that he was trying not too smile, he had even combed his hair for the occasion.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he gushed, peering at the dancing Fae in their finest. Jareth shrugged. His chin was on his fist; he looked as bored as anything.

"Go and get yourself a drink, Percy. As a treat, a glass of wine, or whisky if you'd prefer." He smiled up at his fourteen year old assistant, who beamed with delight before running off again. He returned several minutes later with a glass of wine and severely pink cheeks which caused Jareth to laugh a little. Percy had never drunk before, so it had a quick affect on him. Jareth ordered his servants to visit the Aboveground regularly to get alcohol, it was a stable need of his when he felt particularly under pressure.  
>After an hour or after the guests arriving, Jareth was feeling just as bored as he was at the start. He could see that Percy's excitement was fading, so he told him to go and join in. He sheepishly looked back at him as we walked down the stairs, and disappeared into the crowd. He was alone now, or at least on his own for a little while. He produced a crystal and begun twisting it in his fingertips and whispered into it. Then the girl of his dreams appeared in it. She was brushing her lengthy dark hair and gazing into her mirror with clear green eyes. He was in bliss, and he nestled comfortably in his thrown to continue watching the beauty inside of his looking glass.<p>

Percy zigzagged his way through the wonderful dancers. He didn't know what he was doing, nor where he was going but he knew for certain that he was enjoying being part of the party. A woman forced her way toward him, and curtsied when she came closer. She was pretty, with round pink cheeks, white hair and startling blue eyes. He blushed when he noticed how buxom she was as she bent down in front of him, and scolded himself for noticing. He grinned down at her, as she fluttered her eyelashes, hand on hip.

"Aren't you going to ask me to dance?" She said, and he shook his head as if to wake himself sleep. He apologised and embraced her; he didn't think he could dance but that was not going to stop him from trying.

"What's your name?" She had a loud, common sounding voice, one that made her seem less attractive when she spoke. He told her his name with a stammer, and was surprised at himself when he asked her hers. It was Ernestine, and he could not help but think that it was as unattractive as her crude voice.

"You're a pretty boy." She shouted, making Percy wince. He began to blush, then before he knew it, he had fallen onto her. She began screaming raucously, demanding him to get off her, but he was unconscious.

"The boy must've got carried away!" She exclaimed, as some men picked her up and escorted her away from him. No one had paid attention to Percy, lying motionless on the ground beneath the elegant dancers. As he began to slur and awake, he felt himself being lifted, then his face met a cool breeze. He stirred and woke up moment later, blinking as he looked up at the owner of the lap his head was placed on. For some reason, he expected to see Jareth, but jumped to his feet when he realised that it was a girl. She stared at him, with eyes of emerald green. He simply stared back, with his not-so-sublime beady black eyes and scratched at his head.

"Did you lift me?" he asked at last, still maintaining the awkward air between them.

"Yes," she giggled, "why, don't I look strong enough?"

"No, I mean, yes, but, well I am sorry I didn't mean to insult you.. Thank you." He felt ever so stupid, but he always did. He was not blessed with the capability to hold a good conversation, so was rather awkward in company that wasn't Jareths, especially if that company were female. She giggled again, and tapped the space next to her on the stone bench she occupied. He couldn't help but notice how skinny she was when he came nearer to her, her collarbones and cheekbones were prominent, but that made her all the more striking. She wouldn't necessarily be called pretty, but Percy thought that she was; not harshly pretty like Ernestine, but delicate and natural.

"What happened to you then? Too much to drink?" She teased, grinning at him through gleaming teeth and pink lips. He blushed, hoping he didn't give the impression of an alcoholic.

"I suppose I am not yet used to alcohol, my master gave me a glass of wine a little earlier. It did go straight to my head but I didn't think I was drunk. Oh, I am so embarrassed, do forgive me miss.."

"Constance." She interrupted.

"Percy." He gave her a timid smile and looked down at his lap. His head was hot and he did not feel at all well, but he was glad to be in such calm company rather than inside.

"You shouldn't feel embarrassed, Percy," she took his hand in his, "and you don't need to apologise. I was happy to help!" His heart raced at the touch, her skin was so soft, and her smile was so beautiful. She had long black hair, which framed the snow white skin upon her face. She must have only been a little older than Percy, if not a few years.

"Are you feeling any better?" He nodded, and she flashed a smile before leading him back inside.

The party had quietened down, it hadn't felt like they had been outside long, but it was enough time for the mood of the event to completely switch. Jareth was stood from his thrown, pacing back and forth from it. He was obviously bracing himself for the unfortunate news he was about to deliver. He caught eye contact with Percy and beckoned him to join him. He turned to Constance, who looked very flustered at the mood change.

"I must join my master now, miss. But I cannot thank you enough for your assistance this evening. Will I see you again?"

"You speak so formally," she said, gazing into his eyes with a worried expression, then she gathered, "is the Goblin King your master?" Percy nodded. She didn't say anything after that, but gave him a weak smile and nodded. He kissed her softly on the cheek, before struggling his way through the crowd to join Jareth. He cleared his throat, then began to speak, his voice filling the entire room. Percy stood beside him, hands behind his back, with his eyes fixed on Constance. When Jareths speech had finished, the whole room seemed to scream; all the guests became frantic at the news.

The Goblin City was under attack.


	4. Chapter 4

Percy stirred in his bed, a film of cold sweat covering his face. It was impossible to sleep under such pressure, everyone in the Goblin City noticed that evening. The City had not been at war for hundreds and perhaps even thousand of years, and now that it was imminent, they all felt like butterflies caught in a storm. Every limb in his body ached with worry and his head pounded as the thought of what was to come lurked in his mind. It was early morning, and not quite daylight. The castle was submerged in a thick mist that wept through the open window of Percys bedroom. He lay in a four poster bed, strewn with deep red satin sheets in which his slender limbs were tangled. Everything else in the room was cold, stone and inanimate apart from a rich mahogany wardrobe that occupied the left corner next to the window.

He dreamt of his mother, whom he had never met. She seemed to have no appearance, but he knew it was her. She was cackling at him as he lay dying after being wounded in battle. He attempted to drag himself toward her, but as soon as he got close she would appear another mile away. Jareth had bought him up to curse her name, instructing him to call whoever mistreats him a whore or a cocksucker. Sweating was greatly encouraged by the Goblin King, but Percy felt that it was not in his nature and that it made him ugly. Eventually the dream calmed, and he began to wake up. He sat straight, his vision blurred and his mind disorientated. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, light began to filter through the curtains and at the end of his bed sat the angel.

He gawked at her, thinking that perhaps his dream was reality and she had come to take him to heaven. But she was real, and so was he, and very much alive too. She wore a cloak of bright white wool, fastened at the neck. Her pale angular face was framed with black hair and hood, with soft pink cheeks and plump, smiling lips. Her emerald green eyes were fixed on him, and it felt as though she could see straight into his soul. Her hand gracefully crept to his knee, and she sighed, as though she was relieved to see him. Then she climbed over to sit next to him in his bed and leaned close to him, so that her warm breath grazed his ear.

"I missed you." She whispered, taking his cheek in her palm and turning him to face her. They were so close, and she stared at his lips with endearment, before kissing them tenderly. He broke away and stared at the angel with confusion, still in his sleepy daze. She cocked her head, then kissed him again. This time he fell into it, and wrapped his arms around her to protect her from the cold mist still melting through the window. Then he stopped, and glared at her in further confusion.

"Why are you here, Constance?" he sighed, but she merely laughed and rested her head on his chest.

"Percy, I love you. I've loved you ever since I helped you at the party. And forgive me, as that was only a few hours ago, but I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you." Percy was slightly taken aback by the passion behind her words. He had only met her earlier on in the evening, and she was already confessing her undying attraction toward him. He was daft, and never before had he even got so close as to even touch a woman before. He was the definition of innocent, as well as being loyal, shy and eager. But Constance thought that he was perfect, his naivety was the pin point of her affection and it screamed out at her like a siren.

"But.. We barely know each other.." Percy stuttered, twiddling his thumbs together in a nervous state. Constance gave a playful smile and leapt to her feet.

"That gives an excuse to go for a walk through the Labyrinth then" she exclaimed, fastening her cape. He sighed, and lethargically crept out of bed, fetching his fur coat from the wardrobe. She had already skipped out of the room, which gave him a chance to quickly comb his hair. He didn't think it was a good idea, at all.

Outside it was cold, and the murky air clung to the pair like wet clothing. The sky was dark, with a tint of pink as the sun threatened to emerge from the hills yonder. Dawn was always beautiful in the labyrinth; the early morning bird song thronged in the air as the walls and ground glittered miraculously. Percy had always thought it was a marvellous setting at this time, and he was glad to be sharing it with Constance. She was skipping along beside him, a careless grin on her face as she attempted to not step on the cracks in the ground. She was childlike, but a mature woman. Like she didn't own a care in the world, and was just happy to exist. The way she had confessed to Percy had made him think what a strong and slightly arrogant woman she was. But whatever her traits, she certainly was divine. She held his hand, which made him feel delicate in his stomach. He was at least a head and a half taller than her, which felt a nuisance as he had to look down at her.

"Are you Fae?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

"No," he replied, squinting into the distance, "My master found me as a baby and raised me here."

"He _stole _you?" Constance was looking up at him in disbelief, she had heard about the Golbin Kings habit of stealing human children, but never believed it.

"I was abandoned by my human parents. He found me in a telephone box, almost dead."

"Oh, that's horrible.. I'm sorry to hear that." Percy said nothing. "What is a telephone box?"

"I.. Don't know!" The two broke into laughter, and wiping tears from their eyes turned into a place that Percy had not seen before.

A pool of azure blue was set in a cove of glittered beige rock. It seemed like a hot afternoon in mid summer, as the water glinted against an unknown source of light, even though they had just stepped out of a bleak early morning. Percy stood in awe of the place, not noticing that Constance had removed her cloak and dress. She stood nearly naked in front of him, and beckoned him to come to her. He approached her, and took her in his arms, kissing her with passion and lust. She stopped him, then broke away from him and leapt into the water. He was taken by surprise by her actions, but thought to himself that perhaps he should acquaint to her actions as she came across as extremely impulsive. He removed his coat, and placed it by the pool edge, along with his shirt and shoes. He then wearily place a foot in the water, then slipped off the edge into it, in a very precarious fashion. Constance laughed at how careful he was with himself; completely the opposite of her positively wreckless behaviour. The floated in the water, moving gracefully with it , smiling at eachother.

"So, I don't know any thing about you. Only that you seem to be an envisage of perfection." Percy felt smug, and surprised at how out of character what he had just said was. He could barely believe that he was paying compliments to her, and was doing a good job. She gave him a seductive grin before swimming toward him. They leant against the edge of the pool, with their feet treading to keep them a float. Constance rested her head on his shoulder, and began to tell her tale.

She had been a victim to an abusive parent; her father was an alcoholic and her mother terminally ill. She would come home from school to her father sprawled over their living room floor, bottle in hand and covered in his own vomit. When she would try to wake him, he would beat her, and send her to her room. She was an only child, with no other relatives than her parents. Her mother eventually died, at the time when she was around 5 or six. Her father became even worse, the beating became harder and more thorough. One day, after she had been sent to her room after he had smashed a bottle over her head and kicked her knees till she could barely walk, she decided that if she had to stay there she could not live any longer. She packed a small bag, containing six pairs of knickers and a packet of marshmallows and climbed through her window. It was painful to walk, as her knees were so bludgeoned, but she carried on for miles. After all her marshmallows had gone, and she could walk no longer, she lay down in a field of rape seed and slept. She did not wake up for days, but when she did, she noticed that she was not in the place that she had lay down, nor was it a place that she recognised. It was bright, and seemed clean and safe. At first she thought she was in heaven, but then a hooded figure bent over her and introduced himself. His name was Ezra, and he was from the Underground. He had a kind face, and seemed to be fairly old. Eventually her vision focussed, and she realised it wasn't as bright as she thought. She was in a cottage, her wounds had been tended too and she could not feel much pain any more. He had been walking through the forest where he lived when he came across a field full of rape seed that he had not noticed before. He walked through it, until he came across Constance. He immediately noticed that she was human and how injured she was, and saw it as a sign from Corellon. He raised her, in that little cottage, on the border of a small town that was part of the Goblin City. She had a strong amount of magic, due to her impulsive and strong personality. She was now 17 in human years, but never thought of herself as a human. She was ashamed of it, and never thought of the scum that she was bought into the world by.

Percy was stunned by her story, there was far more depth to it than his. He felt tearful, and sorry for her, but when he looked at her he noticed that she didn't look at all sad. She just appeared thoughtful, as she gazed into the blue of the water. He swam to face her, and held her in his arms.

"Your story is terrible Constance, I am so sorry. You are the most wonderful and deserving person I have met, the life you have now doesn't even suffice." She smiled up at him, now beginning to look tearful, but in a happy way. She placed a hand on his cheek, and kissed his mouth lightly.

"There is only one more thing I need that would make my life perfect, and that is you."

"You have me."


	5. Chapter 5

Jareth did not sleep a wink that night. Instead he sat on his window sill, staring crazed into the distance. His boney knees were held close to his chest by his sequin smothered arms. For the first time in his life, he was frightened, not just for himself but for his people too. He had always been thought of as selfish and cruel, and he himself had thought that way about himself too, but now he doubted that. He cared; the thought of innocent women and children being barbarically slaughtered for his sake chilled him to the bone, and sent goosebumps crawling over his skin. His idiosyncratic eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of threat. He rested his angular sculptured chin upon a gloved hand and sighed; he had been there since the party had ended, and was there out of duty, but felt the matter to be tedious no matter how terrible his situation was. He worried for Percy, the boy he had bought up as his own and had an endearing love for him that was unknown by any other. He cared too much for him to have him involved in such a horrible affair, so scanned his mind for an alternative for the young ward. He could materialize him to the Aboveground, where he would be safe from war. But the Elves would probably know if any magic were used and hunt for him. Then it dawned on him; Percy was in terrible danger because of him, he had to leave.

Jareth pounced from his steady position and paced out of his room. He traipsed the lengths of the corridors, with a sense of moral duty. He was sending Percy away, far away from the Goblin City, where the Elves could not find him. He was going to wake him now, to get him prepared for his journey and send him off in good time. He charged into Percys room without knocking, expecting to see him asleep and perhaps a little dazed, but to his surprise, he was missing. Jareth tugged at his feathery blonde hair, he felt angry and worried; Percy never left the castle without his permission. He waited for him, hoping that his anger would cool by the time he came back.

Percy and Constance were on their way back to his room, hand and hand. They talked about silly things that did not matter, just basking in each others company. They were soaked through to the skin, and left damp footprints behind them. They were hoping to find their way into bed, and curl up together for rest and warmth, but when they got to their destination, they found not what they wanted.

"Where have you been?" Scowled Jareth, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. He towered before them both, tapping his foot as if he had been waiting for a very long time. He looked up and down at his wet clothes, rolling his eyes and tutting as he did.  
>"We had just gone for a walk.." Percy stuttered, resuming his normal nervous habit of twisting his thumbs together.<br>"Oh, a walk? Is it raining? Jareth seemed to not notice Constance at first, and when he eventually did, his anger faded.  
>"And who is this, miraculous beauty?" He said with a charming smile, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss upon it. She smiled bashfully, but noticed the envious heat coming from Percy beside her and snatched her hand away.<br>"Constance," she told him, taking Percys hand, "I'm a friend.."  
>"A friend?" he snapped, his temper changing as he noticed the affection between the two, "Percy has never had a friend, why should such and elegant woman befriend someone as quivering and pathetic as him!" Percy flinched under the cruel words his master had chosen to use against him. He didn't know why it still hurt whenever Jareth insulted him, but it did, and even more so that they were being used in front of Constance. She scowled at him, edging closer to Percy in a protective fashion.<br>"He is more than you think he is, Goblin King. He's everything that you will never be."  
>"Oh?" Jareth tilted his head in such a cocky way that she felt the anger rising further within her."<br>"He has a heart." He began fidgeting under her words and began feeling ashamed that they were having an effect on him. He moved up close to her, snarling down at her like a wolf with a bad temperament.  
>"Leave." he growled. She gave one anxious glance at Percy, before rushing out of the room.<p>

Jareth turned away from Percy, he could not face him after what he had just said. Percy simply stayed in his same nervous position, looking everywhere in the room at him.  
>"I am sorry, Percival." Jareth sighed, still with his back to him. Percy said nothing, but cleared his throat. There was an awkward and uneasy air between them, neither of them knowing what to say. Then Jareth did the completely unexpected, and embraced him in a fatherly hug, resting his chin on Percys shaggy head of hair.<br>"You need to leave, I need you to be safe." He whispered. Percy broke away from the embrace, and stared at his master in bemusement.  
>"I do not want to leave Sire! I must stay and assist you, that is my job."<br>"No, Percy. You are too precious to me, too young to risk by involving you in such a bloody battle. I need you to go, and then at least I will feel at ease by keeping you safe."  
>"I am only a servant though.."<br>"You are more than that. You are like my son, and I love you." With that, Percy began to sob. He held his head against Jareths chest and wept salty tears. Jareth placed a hand on the back of his head, trying to calm him.  
>"I..I don't want to leave. I want to stay here and fight with you. I need to keep you safe, you are the King, you cannot die and I must help prevent that." He cried, his throat seizing up with angst as he did.<br>"Percy.." Jareth began, before a frumpy goblin hobbled into the room, struggling for breath.

"Sire," it gasped, with the most terrified expression either man had seen, "the Elves are approaching. The will be upon us by sunrise."


	6. Chapter 6

There was blood everywhere. A damp and grey battlefield, once riddled with glorious wild flowers that glittered in the sun, was now scattered with corpses and remains of armour and weapons. The rain cascaded from the dark and threatening sky, moistening the faces of the many creatures that fought each other. The Elves had rode in on horse back, with swords and bows and arrows. It was an ancient tradition that when at war, magic was not to be used. The Goblin army were not prepared, and were asleep when the bells were rung declaring war. They had hurriedly prepared their armour and horses, then strode proudly onto the battlefield. The army was an amalgamation of Goblin creatures and Fae folk. The Elves were winning; most of the Goblins had retreated and the majority of the army left had been killed.  
>The leader of the Elven army, Jasper rode proudly through the brawling creatures, thrusting his sword through anyone that crossed his path and feeling more aroused and thirsty for triumph with every spot of blood that splattered him. He was as sadistic as any leaving creature could be; the satisfaction he received from killing and inflicting terror was enough for him to live to the reputation of it. He relished in the anguish he caused; he did not care if he burnt in hell for he enjoyed every second of hurt he imposed. He was a handsome man, but had the intense look of a killer, with narrow eyes and square jaw. His right hand man, Alastair was almost as sadistic as he, however he relished in the blood spill rather than terror. Womens screams were also pleasurable to him, but he adored murdering the innocent. He was a scrawny man, with wide, deep set eyes, permanent grin with pointed teeth, crooked nose and a long face. Both were in black armour, drenched in dried blood. They had been responsible for a vast majority of the deaths that day.<br>The Goblin leader could not have been different to both men. He was Fae, and handsome beyond belief, with long dark hair, deep brown eyes and a dimpled chin. His face was the work of Angels, however, today it was scarred and filthy. He was kind, and had trained to fight out of duty rather than choice. Jareth had chosen him as leader, for he showed the most loyalty and determination. He was a good man, and hated to inflict pain on anyone, but he understood that this was for the good of his people and so put aside his feelings for them. He had killed many that die, and felt a pain deep in his stomach with each wound he caused.

Japer dismounted from his horse, and strode through the array of feuding creatures. No one touched him, nor paid attention to his presence for they all knew that engaging battle with him would result in death. His arrogance thronged in the air around him, like the fresh blood of the bodies that cluttered the ground beneath him. Alastair scuttled along behind him, hunched and sniggering at the horrors that surrounded them. A bald, brave Goblin hurled itself at him, only to be caught in mid air and killed before its attack could be victorious. Alastair plunged his sharpened teeth into it's neck and savoured the sour residue of it's slimy innards. He gave a husky cackle, as he threw the remains of the Goblin on to the ground, and spat on it before staggering off to find Jasper. The two scoundrels continued their stride through the battle towards the Castle. They were on their way to confront the Goblin King, they were not going to be merciful. When they had finished battling their way through the ruckus, they could get to the Castle undisturbed. Or so they thought.

"I thought that you might stay to see the battle through. But I see that the two vile Elven leaders are making a getaway. Or am I mistaken?" A smooth voice spoke from behind them. They turned around to see the angelic Goblin warrior, on a strong, mighty white war horse.

"What's your name, boy?" Jasper sniggered, striding toward him and taking the horse by the reins.

"It is Reuben." He pulled the reins away from him and circled them both, his sword ready in his hand.

"And you're daring to stand up to me, Reuben? Why, you're barely a man." Reuben continued to circle them, trying to appear unaltered by his words however he felt particularly threatened.

"Do you want to _kill _me, Reuben?" Jasper sneered. He took his sword and dropped it to the ground, giving a cocky smirk as he did. "Then do it." Reuben looked unsure as he raised his sword high above his head, ready to strike it down upon Jaspers head. He screwed his eyes shut and just as he was about to make his move, he felt a searing pain in his stomach. He paused, with his sword above his head and a scared and confused look on his face. He peered down, to see the tip of a sword sticking through the centre of his torso, and a dark stain appearing on his clothes around it. His own foul tasting blood begun to make it's way up his throat, and it trickled through his parted lips. The sword was withdrawn from him, and Alastair came around the front to face him. He stood beside Jasper as the young warrior, blood stained and defeated, slumped forward limply on his horse. The two howled with laughter, and left the site where Reuben sat motionless, and lifeless on his horse. Now, they hoped to grant the same fate to the Goblin King.


	7. Chapter 7

Jareth paced the echoing length of his thrown room, hands behind his back and brows knotted in frustration. He had been in there for some hours now, locked in with Percy for company and protection. Percys protection, not his. Ever since the Goblin had announced the swift approach of the Elven army, they had been stowed away and that room, where they assumed they would be safe. Jareth felt like a coward, and he knew the Elves would accuse him of being so, but his protection was his highest priority, not his reputation. That had already been destroyed. He also had a sense of duty toward protecting his assistant, whom he secretly thought of as his ward. He did not like to show his emotions to him too much, or else he believed Percy would lose loyalty and become idle. He was curled into a corner of the room, sprawled in a blanket for warmth, watching his masters anxious movements through narrowed eyes. Jareth had instructed him to get some sleep, however her felt the need to watch over him. Both men felt the need to protect one another, though never showed it.

Elves were hammering against the doors of the castle, wanting to enter to get to the Goblin King. They would not get through, security was far too strong, but that did not put Jareths mind to rest. In fact, it worried him more so, for he knew that there would be so many of his people dying because he was refusing to give himself up. He needed to show that he was a strong ruler, to them and to the Elves however, so tried as hard as he could to push those thoughts to the back of mind. Just then, a frumpy little Goblin scurried into the room, struggling for breath as he did so. Goblins weren't accustomed to running much so it always had a terrible affect on them when they did. Jareth stopped his pace and grounded himself for he knew that the Goblin was bringing news from the battleground. "Sire," it huffed, "I am afraid to be the barer of bad news. I am so sorry." It was on the verge of tears.  
>"Spit it out!" Jareth hissed, losing his temper under the pressure.<br>"Reuben," it gulped, "has been killed. Our army is losing." Jareth said nothing, just held his hands in his head and chewed his bottom lip.  
>"His body is not on the battlefield, nor his horse.."<br>"I do not care, Goblin! Do you not understand! My best fighter is dead, my Kingdom is under attack, my people are dying!" Jareth shouted, flinging his arms in the air, making the Goblin nearly jump out of it's skin. He realised that the velocity of his voice must have woken Percy. He turned around to see him standing right behing him, scratching his matted hair and rubbing his eyes.  
>"Oh, Percy.." Jareth sighed. He felt slightly tearful, which surprised him as he could not remember the last time he cried.<br>"Everything will be fine, Sire." Percy smiled. Deep down, even he doubted his words, but he understood that his master needed comforting words. Jareth ruffled his hair; the way he seemed so naive and calm about everything bought a feeling of adoration out of him.

The two's sentimental moment was interrupted, by the Goblin making a dreadful screaming noise and hurrying out of the room. They turned to where it had been looking, to see a blood thirsty looking Elf standing by the open window with hate in his eyes, and gut covered sword in hand. Jareth pushed Percy out of the way, so he could face the Elf by himself. He laughed, chewing his cheek causing his jaw to stick out, portraying a huge amount of arrogance.  
>"Hello Goblin King." He sniggered, circling him with a slow and cocky stride.<br>"And who might you be?" Jareth scoffed, remaining completely still.  
>"<em>That<em>, doesn't matter. I've come to kill you." He smiled, showing black, rotted teeth that were blatantly blood stained. There were some vile Elves, but they tended to live on the outskirts of the city, and were only spoken too if their barbaric ways were needed in a battle. He drew his sword, and strode closer to Jareth. He winced, feeling completely vulnerable. As tempting as it may be, he did not dare use magic; the consequences of that would be greater than death. The Elf kicked him to the ground, forcing him to fall to his knees. Then he tipped his head up with his sword by pointing it in his throat. He grinned as he saw the small beads of blood accumulate under the tip, and sweat begin to appear on Jareths brow. Jareth screwed his eyes shut, only wishing that death would stop being a coward and take him, however he waited for what seemed a life time. He opened his eyes, only to see the Elves eyes blood shot and wide, with a thick black liquid drooling down his chin. He looked down to see a knife pointing through his stomach, then his sword dropped from his throat and the Elf fell backwards into death. Percy was stood behind him, with a state of shock fixed on his face. He looked down to see his master panting on his knees and clutching his throat.

"Percy, dear boy, you saved my life!" He stood up and embraced him tightly. Percy had no reaction what so ever, he stood completely still and expressed no emotion.  
>"You need to leave, master." He said, not even giving eye contact.<br>"Don't be ridiculous boy." Jareth tutted, dismissing his wards advice completely.  
>"No, you need to go. I can't bare that again. I need to protect you, and I can't. You almost <em>died...<em>"  
>"And you saved my life!"<br>"But how many times will I be able to do that. I'm a coward, sooner or later, you'll be killed and I would have to watch because I'm useless." Jareth stared deep into Percys eyes, with worried thoughts.  
>"Ok." He sighed, reluctantly. "Where will I go?"<br>"To _her_." Percy smiled, and promised him that he'd be alright.

Jareth disappeared from the castle, leaving Percy to face his fears alone.

The Elves, led my Jasper and Alastair, despite his hopes, broke through the doors, rampaging through the castle and killing everyone they came across. When they entered the thrown room, they found a rather arrogant looking Percival, sprawled across his masters thrown, tapping his knee.  
>"Ah, I'd been expecting you!" He announced, raising one eyebrow, just like Jareth would.<br>"Who's this scrawny little fucker!" A rowdy Elf heckled, only to be silenced by Jasper.  
>"Where's Jareth?" He said impatiently.<br>"Who?" Percy said with a patronising tone.  
>"Where is The Goblin King!" Jasper yelled with rage.<br>"Oh, the King is _dead."  
><em>Jasper huffed impatiently, striding towards Percy and then taking him by the throat.  
>"You're lying to me." Percy looked scared now, and he shook his head and pointed to the dead Elf lying on the ground.<br>"That's who killed him. He stabbed him by that window and pushed him out, then when he went for me, I killed him!" he yelped. Jasper let go of him and he cowered into the chair. He went over to the window hat Percy had pointed to, peering out he only saw a lake. He felt his anger rising again, and so went back to Percy and grabbed him by the ear. Percy whimpered as he pulled him out of the chair and toward the crowd of Elves still standing by the door.  
>"Where are you taking me!" He cried.<br>"To the King. He knows what to do with liars like you."

* * *

><p>Sarah Williams sat entwined in a blanket with a mug of coffee, watching her favourite television programme. She lived on her own in a small town a little far from New York City. Her house was small, but she adored it. Occasionally he father, step mother and younger brother Toby came to visit, but Sarah very much preferred solitude. She was 28, and worked as a receptionist. It was not what she wanted to do, but she never had the motivation to strive for anything. Not since she'd walked the Labyrinth. From then on, she would spend her days in a world of her own, dreaming about her adventures and about the ones there were to come. She'd never taken much interest in men either, not since she'd met Jareth, who to her was the perfect male. Of course, she'd had sex, but never thought anything of it.<p>

She took a sip of her coffee, then her elbow slipped on the arm of her chair, causing it to spill all over her lap. She cursed, and got up to clean herself up. It was night time, around 8pm, so upon entering the hall, she turned the light on. However just before she did, something caught her eye in her front door way. She stared at the glass door, and saw nothing through it. Feeling a little bemused, she switched the light off again, which revealed the silhouette of a man in the doorway. She felt terrified, he hadn't knocked the door, he was just stood there. Plucking up her courage, she went towards it, and slowly opened it to reveal the Goblin King himself, in floods of tears. He fell to his knees, and clutched her, sobbing into her stomach.

"Oh Sarah, what have I done?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Let me get this straight.." Sarah sighed, slumping down on the sofa with a heaviness. She was clutching a new mug of coffee, having offered one to Jareth and him accepting. "You've come to me for help?"  
>Jareth nodded weakly, as he stared into the mug in his lap. The last thing he wanted to do was come to Sarah, but given the situation and the fact that it did involve her immensely, decided he had no other choice. He swilled the coffee around in his mug, hesitant to take a sip. Coffee, after all, was not something he was particularly familiar with. He sipped it with precaution, before spitting it back out and turning his glare into a grimace and handing it to Sarah. She laughed at him as she took the mug from his hands and placed it on a table. There were a few minutes of uneasy silence, as Sarah drunk and Jareth gazed at his twiddling thumbs.<br>"Forgive me, Sarah." He muttered, breaking the silence and looking up at her with his strange, sad eyes. She stared back with a certain amount of intensity, trying to figure him out or deduce his motions, but getting nowhere in doing so, she resorted to simply asking.  
>"What do you mean?"<br>Jareth looked back at his lap, his brow furrowing. His heart was pounding a mile a minute now, and he was racking his brain for a way to explain himself calmly as his palms began to sweat.  
>"I've put you in a great amount of danger.."<br>Sarah's face seemed to fall, at least from it's state of carelessness to a bemusing stare. She scanned the man in front of her intently, grasping the words he had spoken in her mind and attempting to understand them. She put her mug on the table and edged uneasily in her seat, switching her gaze to her lap.  
>"Please, explain." she sighed heavily, taking a strand of her hair unconsciously and beginning to anxiously twiddle it in her fingers. Jareth stayed silent for a moment, then moved closer to her, placing a firm hand on her knee so to act reassuringly. She looked up to meet his gaze as he begun to tell the tale, properly:<p>

"There are many laws in the Underground, all declared by the higher Elves. They have been laid down to them by Corellon Larethian, the God of the Underworld. I have broken one of the laws; the worst one, or the worst one in the eyes of the Bishop Dorian anyway. The Elven King and the Bishop came to me, to give me the option of resigning my crown and position. Though, being the fool that I am, I refused. They raged war on my Kingdom, and I fled. I dread to think what is left of it."

Sarah gorped at him unintentionally for a moment or two, before clasping her hands over her mouth and staring at him in disbelief; the Underground was far more complex than she had thought it to be. He stared back, a sense of sympathy lurking in his eyes.  
>"What law did you break?" she finally asked the question that had been playing on her mind. Jareth sighed deeply, and took a strand of her hair, winding it in his fingers. She gazed at the action, confusion playing in her brow.<br>"I fell in love with a human." He answered straight, though had no intention of stretching any further into the question. She tilted her head to one side and frowned.  
>"That's illegal?"<br>He answered her with a slow nod, and averted his gaze to anywhere in the room but at her. She hesitated in quizzing him anymore, though after moments of silence and a realisation into the fact that Jareth was still maintaining his contact with her hair and her knee, couldn't help the words that stumbled from her lips.  
>"Who was.. Who is it?"<br>Jareth looked back at her, raising an eyebrow in a disparaging manner as if only to object that it was a ridiculous and foolish thing to ask.  
>"You, Sarah." He answered, keeping hold of an intent gaze with her. She stared back, her green eyes filling with tears of rage. Or was it joy? She could not tell, but all she could do was gorp at him. He gave her a crooked smirk, innocently so, but it received no reaction.<br>"This is why we have to leave, Sarah. This is why you're in danger. I've been so foolish coming her. I'm so, so sorry." He muttered, pulling away from her and sighing heavily. She stood up somewhat hastily, and straightened her shoulders, turning to look at him sternly.  
>"Then we will leave in the morning. First thing."<br>He was shocked by her words, and found himself with his mouth beginning to fall open.  
>"To where?" he stuttered, staying seated but returning the stare.<br>"England."

Then she strode out of the room, leaving a baffled, bemused and positively terrified Goblin King on her living room sofa.


	9. Chapter 9

It was dark, not dark enough so that it was impossible to see, but dark enough to give one the impression that it was night. However, it was not. Sharp shards of light filtered through cracks in the dark stone ceiling, making certain aspects of the room visible. Percy wondered where he was, it wasn't a familiar setting. The walls were sharp thick stone, and there was not a window to be seen, nor a door. Though, as his eyes began to focus, the room became more cramped, and thick metal bars stretched across two sides of the room. His breathing became heavier, and he stared around the room frantically, panicked. He tried to stand, but around his ankles were heavy cuffs, chained to the wall behind him. He could move, though only a very little amount. He shrunk back against the wall, his brow knitting in defeat and with a deep sigh he shut his eyes. Why was he here? Or more importantly, where _was _here? Memories began to filter in, of the Elves, of his Master; at least he was safe. Percy couldn't fight the feeling of relief, despite his grim location and probable grizzly fate. He wondered what the Elves would do to him, if they would show any kind of remorse. Of course they wouldn't, Jareth had defied the law and Percy had assisted him in doing so, he would be sure to get a death sentence at the very least. He began to helplessly count through the possible acts of torture he might be put through because of his crime. Maybe he would be skinned alive, or hung over a fire and lowered into it unless he bestowed information of his Master's whereabouts. His main train of thought, however, that he kept resorting back to restrained him from breaking into grovelling sobs to no one in particular. The thought that his King was safe from harm, at least for the time being and that Percy, himself, had saved him.  
>It felt as if there was no hope for him though, he was sure to live the rest of his short life in pain, however long it may be, and that thought made him want to die there and then. Perhaps if he hit his head against the wall hard enough it would kill him instantly and he wouldn't have to face the torture that was most likely ahead of him. He could have killed himself pretty easily in there, it would have taken a second and there would have been nothing else to worry about anymore. But then again, if the Elves had many prisoners kept locked away there, the walls are probably suicide proof. Percy let out another loud sigh, and the remains of his drained out voice echoed and bounced off the closed in walls. Just then, he heard a slight scratching noise, only faintly but very distinct. Like something was scratching on the ground behind the bars to his right. He shook his head and brushed off the thought that there was anything to be heard at all, but there it was again, as crystal clear as before. He squinted in the direction of the noise, though he couldn't see anything for the lack of light. The noise was becoming louder, more defined, as if something was trying to dig its way into Percy's cell. Could it be a rat? Or some kind of sewer animal? If so, it'd have to be rather big to produce the racket that was ringing in Percy's ears. He couldn't take it anymore; the noise was almost as hallowing as the thoughts of torture. It was its own kind of torture, wrapping its way into his brain and tangling itself around his every thought, morphing his treasured memories of home, Constance, Jareth, into distorted images. He hesitated in edging forward, but after taking a deep breath, he shuffled toward the bars and towards the noise, and it stopped. It stopped almost instantly. Percy sat with wide eyes as he stared at nothing, trying to spy the source of the scratching. Unsuccessful in discovery through sight, he plucked up the courage from the depths of his stomach and whispered softly into the darkness; "Is anyone there?"<br>There was no reply, of course, only the gentle and fading sound of scuttling. Of course, Percy thought, laughing inwardly at himself for even surfacing the thought that there might have been someone there. He edged back and leant against the wall where he was before, and cradled his chin on his knees that he hugged tightly to his chest. He was just drifting off into another dream, when a different sound drew his attention;  
>"I hope she didn't irritate you." A small voice croaked from behind the bars where the first noise had occurred. Percy had to shake his head a few times to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Who was the person speaking to him? And who was 'she'? The voice was male, but he sounded young.<br>"What was she doing?" he finally whispered, after a long and rather disturbing pause.  
>"Trying to tunnel her way into your cell!" the other voice chortled, as if it were obvious. Though, on contemplation, it was quite obvious. If 'she' were trying to escape, 'she' would be digging against the other bars, but 'she' was digging against the bars dividing Percy's cell from the one beside him, which contained the boy and his thing. Percy stayed still and blinked into the darkness, following the other boys' voice with his eyes, though his sight was still blind. He could only make out the faint silhouette of a small hunched figure curled up in the corner of the other cell, which was just as small as Percy's'.<br>"If you don't mind me asking, what is _she_?" Percy asked timidly, curious as to find out what this creature was even more so than finding out anything about the boy. He heard movement in the other cell, and the silhouette had all of a sudden moved very close to the bars, he was, in fact, leaning against them. Then there was a snapping noise, like the sound of a fire being lit, and then the fire was lit. The silhouette turned into a boy, with scruffy red hair and full smiling lips. He looked up at Percy, with grey eyes, and then to his fingers, which were on fire. Percy jumped back in fear, afraid that he would too catch fire, but the other boy only laughed at him.  
>"Don't worry," he said, waving his flaming fingers over his head, "I'm a Saethass, a child of the fire." Percy nodded absently, he had not heard of the Saethass people before. He nervously moved back toward the bars and stared in wonderment at the boys flaming fingers. As Percy studied him, he reached under his ragged shirt and pulled out a ball, glistening with silver and gold scale like jewels. He placed it gently onto the ground and held his hand over it so that it was perfectly visible, and he gave it a small tap. The ball rolled around a little, shaking, as if trying to muscle up the courage to emerge, and then it did. Suddenly, it jumped into mid air, and landed perfectly on 8, thick, double jointed legs. It had many small beady black eyes, too many to count, large, sharp looking pincers below the eyes and a great, fat body, covered in the jewels that Percy had noticed when it was curled into a ball. It was easily the size of his shin in length, and it set his teeth on edge thinking about the girth of its body. He gulped loudly as he took in the strange creature, so fixated on it that he didn't notice the other boy's wide grin at him and the reaction to his pet.<br>"What is she?" Percy asked, breaking the silence and his fixation on the creature.  
>"A Chorryn. They're very rare, particularly this one. If the guards found out I had her they'd kill her and sell her back for a very high price." He scooped up the Chorryn and it wriggled back into its secure ball form, then the boy stood up and rolled it across the floor. The jewelled ball shaped creature bounced against the walls until it found its way back to its owner, where it unfolded into its normal appearance and scuttled up the boy's body to sit on his shoulder.<br>"Her name is Admete." The boy told Percy, holding out a finger, that wasn't on fire, to stroke along one of the Chorryn's pincers. She seemed to respond happily, closing her eyes and making a very high pitched and barely audible squeal.  
>"Admete..." Percy repeated in a whisper, his eyes still fixed on the Chorryn. "What about you? What's your name?"<br>"Byron. I've been here a few months longer than you. You've been here about a week, just been sleeping the whole time. Why are you here?" That was a question that Percy did not want to expand on. He brushed it aside as discreetly as he could, explaining that it was a long story and that he'd rather not explain. Byron seemed to understand, and began to state why he had landed himself in an Elven prison. He was from one of the smaller villages in between the realm of the Fairies and the Elven city, dwelling amongst fellow Saethass folk. The Saethass' were a part of a larger family called the 'Elfennau', which was divided into four groups according to the four different elements. The Saethass belonged to fire, Ddyfria to water, Briddo to earth and Alaw to air. Each group had duties of controlling their elements in the Underground, however Byron did not like the duties given to him and his family. They were instructed to control candles, and were paid very little for their jobs. Byron began to steal from the wealthier families, and eventually became an outlaw and was forced to flee his village. He survived for about a year without being discovered, but then caught when he wondered too close to the Elven city and they detected his presence.  
>"I can escape though; I've got Admete to help me. She's a pretty good digger for her size, and she's only going to get bigger." Percy's stomach churned at the thought of the Chorryn getting any bigger, but his head spun at the fact that it might be possible to escape. He smiled at Byron, who returned the smile and told him that he'd help him escape too.<p>

For the first time he could remember, Percy felt apprehensive about his own life. If he could escape, then he might even be able to find Jareth.  
>Now all he had to do was get past the imminent torture.<p> 


End file.
